


Alpha Werewolves and Ambient Mages

by Neceros



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Ambient Mage!Stiles, Emelan AU, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Sad!Deaton, Slow Burn, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neceros/pseuds/Neceros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where mages are as common as plumbers, Stiles is an ambient mage.  Unlike academic mages who use power from within themselves to cast spells and create charms, ambient mages work with the power that already resides in the focus of their magic— for some, it might be weaving, smithing, plants, or weather.  Stiles works with the magic of books.</p><p>PERMANENT HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Books and Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> You've probably noticed that this fic hasn't updated in some time. I tried to write the next chapter, I really did, but when my laptop crashed three different times, losing all my progress and notes each time, and breaking the laptop altogether the third time, it was clearly not meant to be. And I must confess that I didn't really have much of an idea for where to go next anyway- my notes for the rest of the fic basically read "basically follow the first season's plot", and my changes seemed to be causing a lot more divergence than I expected, making that even more useless. So, this is now on permanent hiatus unless some ridiculous amount of inspiration strikes. 
> 
> I may someday write another fic- I have some notes for a couple ready to go- but my plot bunnies tend to race on to the next fic idea long before I can get anything like a decent plot down. I may write some oneshots, but those never seem to hold my interest. I'm considering moving onto tumblr to write detailed reviews of fanfics I especially enjoyed instead, because the lack of such things often bothers me.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support. It meant a lot to me through this experiment. I'm sorry I couldn't carry it through to the end.
> 
> (Previous introductory author notes are now at the bottom of the fic, should you for whatever reason wish to read them.)

“Book magic. You're telling me my son has _book_ magic.”

 

The mage who'd introduced himself as Alan Deaton in the library yesterday nods solemnly, although his face looks suspiciously like he's trying to hold in an amused smile. “Yes. It's certainly not very common, and there isn't really an academic equivalent, so I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it before.”

 

Papa Stilinski passes a hand over his face. “Alright. Magic. Okay. So... How is this going to work? Do I need to send him off to some mage school? Because I'm pretty sure the nearest one is Lightsbridge in San Fran, and he's a little young for university. Would they even take him, with the ADHD?”

 

Deaton shakes his head, and this time he does smile. “Not at all. As his discovering mage, it will be my duty and honor to teach Stiles. And I've just recently settled in here; I took over the veterinary clinic from a friend. So you can stay here in town, and just send him over to me for lessons as often as he can make it. And as for the ADHD...” He turnes and gives Stiles a considering look, although still with that smile. “I think meditation and learning to control his power will help a great deal with that. It may even have been a misdiagnosis— uncontrolled and unnoticed power of this kind could certainly produce similar symptoms.”

 

“Well, if it helps him settle down and keep out of trouble, I definitely approve,” the deputy says with a half-hearted chuckle, which grows more honest when Stiles turns his head and gives his dad a wounded look.

 

Stiles opens his mouth and is clearly about to protest that _he doesn't get into that_ _much trouble_ , when Deaton cuts him off, his smile now a broad smirk directed at both father and son. “I doubt very much that learning magic will keep him out of trouble. Mage students have an impressive knack for getting into unique kinds of trouble.”

 

Papa Stilinski heaves a sigh that's perhaps just a touch dramatic. “I should have known it was too much to hope for.” He turns to Stiles and continues, “Well kiddo, what do you say?”

 

What does he say? Everyone's seen the kids with magic. Usually they're middle schoolers and sometimes middle schoolers. Stiles is all of _ten_ . That alone would make him freakish enough— but Deaton had said ambient magic. Academic mages are the “cool kids”, the magical equivalent to varsity players. Lydia Martin, goddess on earth, is already studying academic magic so she can be the best mage in school in a few years time. But ambient mages are the real weirdos, at least to the kids at school. Everyone loves making fun of the kids who talk to grass or bricks or desks or _clothes_.

 

But if there's one thing everyone knows about magic, it's that you can't let it go untaught. And more importantly (so much more importantly), Stiles's Mom was an ambient cook-mage. It's only in the six months since she died that Stiles has realized just how good the food she cooked was. The idea of trying to ignore this, one of the few things he has left to connect him to his Mom, is unbearable. He looks up at Deaton and tries to fill his voice with all the enthusiasm he can muster as he says “When do we start?

 

 

 

 

Two days later finds Stiles walking into the back office of the veterinary clinic. The whole place gleams and glows with magic, which is how he learns that he can see magic. Although according to Deaton, he can only see strong magics unless he concentrates. Which is fine with Stiles, since he'll probably learn spells to enhance his vision as he needs it, and he'd rather not go blind in the meanwhile. The lesson goes smoothly— Deaton teaches him to meditate, and is impressed by how well he does until Stiles mentions that he looked it up and practiced at home over the last two days. Then Deaton spends the next fifteen minutes informing Stiles of just how incredibly dangerous it was to meditate without a protective circle, and of all the things that could have happened. When Stiles gets home, he rushes to check every book in the house, starting with his mother's recipe book, and is enormously grateful to find that none of them are damaged in any way. The next day, when Stiles comes in and thanks Deaton for the warning, he smiles and starts teaching Stiles the next step in meditation.

 

 

Two weeks later, Deaton helps Stiles do his first piece of independent magic, a ward to keep his magic under control so he can meditate at home and keep his magic under control (and keep other dangers out, Deaton says, although Stiles doesn't know what he means by that and Deaton refuses to explain.) Stiles's first thought is to put books in a ring around him, but he doesn't really have enough books on hand for that, and besides, he'll want to read those later.

 

So Deaton suggests working with a different form of the written word, and a square instead of a circle. Stiles takes a pad of sticky notes, and on each one, he writes someone or something that he wants to protect or keep out, and then puts it on his wall. When he's done, his room is ringed with a solid line of notes that say things like “I want my dad to be safe”, “I won't let my books be hurt”, “I don't want my magic to get out”, “I'll protect Scott”, and (on the closet door as a joke) “No monsters allowed”. When Stiles complains about the time it takes to write out so many notes, Deaton just smiles (it's more of a smirk, really) and reminds him for the eighth time since he started learning that magic is mostly hard work. Just like every other time he's said it, Stiles sighs and goes back to work.

 

 

Two months later, Deaton has taught Stiles how to open himself to his power and his tools to work magic when he doesn't know a specific spell for a situation. Deaton smiles proudly when Stiles discovers that he can use his mother's cookbook to enhance the flavor of anything cooked using one of her recipes. There's a series of “incidents” in the woods and the rundown parts of town—gunfire, animal sounds, and people turning up dead or injured. Nearly all of the victims are from out of town, and several of them don't have any form of identification at all . Stiles fills a pocket notebook with all the things he doesn't want to happen to his dad and convinces him to carry it always. He feels tired for a week afterwards, but his dad never does get hurt, even when he's slammed into a wall by some angry guy who knew one of the victims. Stiles fills another notebook that night.

 

The incidents come to a head when several people die in a warehouse, blasted with steam from the old pipes and then shot down. The same night, a girl from high school goes missing, an ambient mage with music magic. Stiles takes special note of the event, because there aren't many ambient mages in Beacon Hills—perhaps two dozen throughout the town, and less than a quarter of that in the schools, though it was hard to tell. Ambient mages often preferred to let people assume they were academic mages. Beacon Hills is fairly calm afterwards, though a number of similar incidents (mass murder, odd weapons, victims living off the grid) suggest that the perpetrators have simply moved on. There's talk of voting in a new Sheriff.

 

 

One year later, Deaton has found several old books for Stiles on book magic, and Stiles is learning from the writers, long after they'd written. The Hale house burns down. Derek and Laura Hale are the only ones not there when it happens. Two living people are pulled out of the charred remains of the house. Peter Hale enters a coma. Deaton nearly kills himself trying to heal Talia Hale, but even so she only survives long enough to ask him to take care of her children.

 

Deaton doesn't smile anymore.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, kind of a downer ending for the first chapter. Sorry about that. I promise it'll be less depressing next chapter.


	2. Classrooms and Crushes

By the time Stiles is thirteen, he's learned just about everything Deaton has to teach him. Stiles's book magic and Deaton's healing and animal magic don't have much in common, and the most they do is trade books, usually through Scott. By the time Stiles is fifteen, he's applied for and received his provisional license, which is basically a regular mage's license with a promise that he'll go to a mage's university when he's old enough so he can receive a more thorough education. His dad was super proud when Stiles got the license, and he hung it right next to Claudia's. Stiles feels pretty cool for having qualified for it himself. Lydia is the only other underclassman mage to have qualified, and only two junior and five seniors have licenses. Sometimes Stiles wishes he could tell people about it, about this proof that he's just as good as _Lydia Martin_ , and maybe even better since he got his a year before she did. But he doesn't. Scott's the only person besides his dad who knows he has ambient magic, and he'd like to keep it that way.

 

His magic isn't particularly exciting. He can't throw fireballs or create illusions or brainwash people. Well, he _can_ , but he has to do a ton of writing and use a ton of magic. He can do pretty much anything if he writes it all down, but it's _exhausting_. He tried to cure Scott's asthma once, using ten different journals that he'd filled with all the things he wanted Scott's body to repair and with enough magic to make the books shine. When Stiles actually cast the spell the books all burned up, he passed out for two days, and Scott was asthma-free for all of six months before it came back. Using his magic in ways it doesn't want to be used is really hard.

 

And writing his own books is fine for doing specific pieces of magic, but anything he writes for a given spell is usually good for that spell and that spell only. He thinks of the things he writes as internal batteries designed for a given spell, while books other people have written are rechargeable double-A batteries—they hold less power, but it builds back up as he reads them, and he can use them in all sorts of spells.

 

Mostly his magic is good for making it easier for him to read and write. He can skim a chapter at a time, and take it in and remember it perfectly. He can write page after page in perfect handwriting with no spelling errors. And sometimes, he can get impressions of what the author was trying to convey when they wrote. It's a bit like having a second train of thought going in his mind. It works best with a handwritten copy, or a first edition or autographed version. Stiles likes to call it “biblio-empathy”, although he looks it up and finds that “psychometry” is the technical term for this particular manifestation of ambient magic. It's really handy, especially when reading books with obscure metaphoricalness (totally a word).

 

It also turns out to be very useful for learning things that he wasn't really meant to, because when a writer dances around a topic, that topic tends to be the biggest impression the writer left. So when Stiles borrows a book on magic affected by lunar phases, he discovers that the author was quite certain that werewolves were real. A few hours of asking Deaton's library for help later, Stiles was almost equally convinced. He decides not to say anything to Deaton—after all, if he had all these books, he must have already known, which meant he probably has a reason for not telling Stiles about it. Instead, he decides to do his own research. And Stiles is very, very good at research.

 

By the time Stiles is sixteen and Sophomore year rolls around, Stiles is pretty much an expert on everything surrounding werewolves. So when Scott shows up at school the day after they go looking for a dead body with a picture of an already-healed bite and a story of a wolf biting him, Stiles freaks out a little. Just a little.

 

“Oh my god, alright, come with me, we need to talk-“

 

“Stiles, what are you-”

 

“Not here, Scotty. We need to get somewhere private. Trust me on this.”

 

“Stiles, we're gonna be late for class— stop pushing me!”

 

“Sorry, sorry. Here we go...” Stiles mumbles as he closes the bathroom door behind them and starts pulling out index cards from the satchel that serves as his mage kit, looking for a notice-me-not spell to attach to the door. “There.” He turns around and faces Scott, who's looking confused and more than a little frustrated. “Okay, dude this is going to sound crazy, but hear me out, okay?”

 

“You're already looking pretty crazy, Stiles. What are you talking about?”

 

Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. Crazy-looking is not a good way to deliver this information. “Alright. The thing that bit you, you said it looked like a wolf, right? And the bite it gave you healed overnight?”

 

Scott's looking completely confused now. “Yeah. I mean, that's what it looked like.”

 

Another deep breath. “Scott, I think what bit you was a werewolf. And it turned you into a werewolf.”

 

“Stiles, have you been reading Twilight to try and impress Lydia again?”

 

“What? No! This has nothing to with that. Besides, I told you, none of my other books wanted to be on the same shelf as those things. I had to give them away.”

 

“Yeah, it's still weird when you talk like that.”

 

“Okay, we got sidetracked here. Look, werewolves are real, okay? Deaton has whole books that talk about them.”

 

Scott's still looking sceptical. “I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if he had books about werewolves, Stiles.”

 

“Okay, first of all, you totally wouldn't have, because you've probably seen half as many of his books as I have, and I'm pretty sure I haven't seen half of the books he has. Second of all, none of the real books about werewolves actually use the word 'werewolf'. They talk about, like, magical moon-creatures, and then describe a werewolf using ridiculously fancy words.”

 

Scott's starting to lean towards angry now. “Okay, so if you've known about werewolves since, since whenever, why didn't you ever tell me about them?”

 

Stiles is doing his best to project calm— it won't do any good to let Scott get riled up. And actually, it might be really really bad right now. He has no idea when the full moon is, but he does know that werewolves who haven't had a chance to learn control are dangerous. “Because it was just something I read about, Scott. I do a lot of reading, and I never had any actual proof that werewolves were real until you got bit by a wolf when there aren't supposed to be any wolves in California.  And then developed an actual healing factor. I swear, if I ever thought it was gonna be a problem—if I'd had any kind of evidence at all— I would've told you. You know I would have. But the good news is, I can help.  We can make this okay.”

 

From the increasingly blank look on Scott's face, Stiles is pretty sure this is a bad time to overload him with any more information. In fairness, 'your species just changed' is a lot to process on its own. Stiles slumps against one of the counters and sighs. “Look, it shouldn't be a big deal today. You just turned last night, you're not going to be all that dangerous or anything today. Let's just... I'll meet you at the clinic tonight and we can talk to Deaton tonight. I don't know how much he knows, but with the books he owns, he's got to know something. We can get some advice from him.”

 

Scott's starting to regain some life at the mention of talking to Deaton, which doesn't surprise Stiles at all. He knows Scott trusts Deaton like a father (Stiles's father, not Scott's). Scott manages a shaky nod and a “Yeah, that sounds... good. Yeah.”

 

“Alright! Glad we got that settled.” Stiles gives his best friend an encouraging clap on the back and pulls off the notice-me-not. “Let's get to class.”

 

 

 

Of course, their first class is English. Which seems like it's going just fine, despite Scott staring out the window and needing to borrow a pen. And then the teacher introduces the new girl. Allison _Argent_ . Stiles freezes. She doesn't seem to notice (thank God), but neither does Scott. Who turns around and _loans her a pen and smiles_. Stiles slams his head into the desk.

 

“Mister Stilinski! Is there a problem?”

 

Stiles lifts his head up and plasters on a smile. “Nope, no problem.”

 

_Just learning that Scott has suicidal taste in women._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it feels weird to you that Stiles is placing so much trust in Deaton here, remember that they have about four years of a master-apprentice relationship and two years of a colleague relationship under their belts at this point. They have a very different relationship than they do in the show.
> 
> Also, don't expect updates to be this quick in the future. I already had about half of this chapter written when I posted the first one.


	3. Deaton and Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles go talk to Deaton about all this werewolf nonsense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments! I've got a couple nights off here, so I'm hoping to slam out the next chapter by Friday evening. We'll see how that goes, but it almost certainly won't be any later than Sunday.
> 
> Meanwhile: playing around with writing different perspectives, yay!

In the continued interest of not overwhelming Scott while they're still at school, Stiles decides not to confront Scott about the whole 'flirting with a possible supernatural hunter' thing until they get to Deaton's. This plan fails to account for all of Scott's doe-eyed staring. Stiles feels honestly embarrassed for him, and he's not particularly thrilled with the way Allison keeps looking back at Scott. Stiles is pretty sure there's no way she could know that Scott got bitten last night, which means it's probably an honest attraction, but he just doesn't like the idea of Scott getting close to an Argent as a newly turned werewolf.

 

They manage to get to the end of school without being ambushed by a barrage of wolfsbane bullets, which Stiles counts as a plus, until he realizes that he totally forgot about lacrosse tryouts right after school. Fortunately, Scott cooperates with Stiles's life-saving maneuvers this time and waits with him in the locker room for the rest of the team to leave before turning to him with a worried face and saying “Stiles! I could hear things! Things that I shouldn't be able to hear! And I can smell things. What is going on?”

 

Stiles very deliberately does not smile, because he loves his buddy, even when Scott's being just a little dense. “Wolves have very good hearing and noses, Scott.”

 

“So, so you really think I'm a...”

 

Stiles lowers his voice, because where there's one Argent, there's could be others, and there's no telling if one of them might walk in on this conversation. “Werewolf. The word is werewolf. And yeah, I do. Now listen, when we go out there, you are going to talk about how you practiced all summer and got a great new asthma charm and you're tons better now, and I'm going to back you up. Okay?”

 

“But I didn't. I mean, I practiced, but I didn't get that much better, and I don't have a new—”

 

“Because you're a werewolf now, Scotty." Stiles interrupts. "We don't want anyone wondering how you got so much better all of a sudden. Just roll with it until we talk to Deaton, okay?”

 

“But what if I'm not better all of a sudden? I just got bitten, or turned, or whatever last night!”

 

“You're absolutely right, Scott. We should do a test.” And he promptly tries to slap Scott upside his head. And fails, because Scott instantly catches Stiles's hand about a foot away from his head. “See? There you go.”

 

Scott's looking adorably confused again. “What just happened?”

 

Stiles retrieves his hand and hands Scott his lacrosse stick. “Werewolf. Now come on, let's get on the field!” 

 

Lacrosse goes perfectly, aside from a minor incident with Scott being briefly incapacitated by a whistle. Stiles wonders if werewolves can hear dog whistles, and hopes that Scott getting smacked in the face with a ball is distracting enough to keep Argent from thinking too hard about what could have made Scott collapse. Then he spends the rest of the practice hyping how much better Scott's gotten after practicing all summer, and is wonderfully justified as Scott blocks shot after shot. Scott's excited face is almost as gratifying as Jackson's pissed-off face. Except not really, because Stiles loves seeing Jackson get what he deserves. It's a beautiful thing. And best of all, the Argent girl is talking to Lydia about Scott with what sounds like nothing more than romantic interest.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

Alan Deaton is examining a stray cat when his phone rings, and he stops breathing for a moment. It's his personal phone, the one that only four people have the number for, and being contacted on this phone could mean anything— from Scott being late for work, to the Sherriff calling about Stiles collapsing from magic overuse, to (on one particularly memorable occasion) Stiles wanting to know the best way to treat an enormous paper cut to an artery. But the phone rings only once and stops, so it's a text message. Deaton breathes again, because if it doesn't require a phone call, it's probably nothing too bad.

 

He finishes letting his power wash through the cat, burning out the worms without making any fuss about it, because the kid who brought this stray in certainly doesn't have the money to pay for its treatment. He cleans up and moves into his office to check the message. Fortunately, he doesn't have any appointments for a while, so he can devote his whole attention to dealing with whatever's come up. He pulls out his phone and looks at the message, which reads “ _Stiles and I are coming over early. Need to talk -Scott_ ”. Deaton just stares at the phone for a moment, before closing his eyes and wondering what could have happened that's so bad that it requires an in-person conversation. If either of them had been injured, Scott would have mentioned it. Idly, he wonders how he got to the point where those two being in trouble but uninjured became so much more frightening than them bleeding out.

 

The door rings about ten minutes later, just as he's putting the final touches on a wolfsbane powder, just in case last night's “animal attack”... wasn't. He can hear Scott's and Stiles's voices, and he calls out “I'm in the back, come on through.”

 

There's a responding “Okay” from Scott, and then silence where normally there would be the sound of the gate opening. Then Scott raises his voice just enough to be heard, and the confusion in it is clear when he says “Do you have the wards up? I can't touch the gate.”

 

Deaton feels his heart skip a beat, and he immediately bottles and caps the powder with care before quickly moving to the front. Because the wards _aren't_ up, the gate is just regular mountain ash right now, and while there are all sorts of creatures that could be blocked by that, most of them are born not made, and with what happened last night, the only possible conclusion is that...

 

“It's because he's a werewolf now, isn't it.” Stiles delivers the pronouncement with a certainty that clearly conveys both that Stiles knows exactly what's going on, and that he knows his mentor does as well.

 

Deaton reaches out and opens the gate. “I think you had better come back here and tell me what happened.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

By the time their story has been told, Deaton has brewed some fresh tea to help keep them all calm. It's mostly for his benefit, because this is touching on things that he's tried very hard to bury for the past several years, but he thinks Scott will benefit from it as well. He's looking pretty shaken up, which is only to be expected. Stiles, on the other hand, is looking about as calm as Stiles ever is. He's the one to end the silence after they finish their story, saying “So we decided to come here for... I don't know, a second opinion, I guess. Which apparently we already have, as far as confirming that Scott is in fact a freakin' werewolf, right?” He looks to Deaton, who nods. Stiles continues, “So what we really need know is information. I mean, I've got some, but not as much as I'd like. I know the wolf that bit Scott must have been an Alpha, but I don't know who it is or why they did that.”

 

Deaton sighs, the kind of exhausted, sad sigh that comes only from thinking about dead loved ones. “I'm afraid I don't know the answers to either of those questions, much as I wish I did. The last Alpha I knew is dead now, and would never have done something like turning someone without permission.”

 

Stiles looks interested and alert now, as Deaton had known would happen. “So you've known werewolves personally? I thought maybe you just had books about them. I mean, more books than I've seen.”

 

He's clearly trying to get as much information as possible, to protect Scott as best he can. Deaton can empathize with that on so many levels, which is why it's so difficult to say what he has to say next. “I have. But I have also sworn oaths not to betray the secrets of those werewolves.” He can see the shock working its way onto their faces even as he continues, “I am truly sorry. I wish I could help, but the oaths prevent me from giving you any information about werewolves that you do not either already possess or need for your immediate survival.”

 

Stiles visibly calms down, taking breaths in the meditation pattern (breathe in for a count of seven, hold for a count of seven, breathe out for a count of seven) and putting his hand on Scott's arm to help settle his friend. Then he looks at Deaton with the face that he always has when trying to work out a particularly difficult problem and says, “What _can_ you tell us, then? If turning someone against their will is uncommon and bad, then Scott's probably in some kind of danger, right? Can you tell us about that? Or could you, I don't know, lend me those other books?”

 

Deaton closes his eyes and allows himself to breathe in the meditation pattern for a minute. He's very carefully avoided thinking of anything to do with the Hales for a long time, and this is dragging everything back up again. “I can't give you the books. There's too much information in there that I can't justify giving to you. But... I can tell you a few things. First, Scott isn't the one in danger. If he was turned instead of killed, the Alpha likely wants him alive. Stiles would be the one with the greatest threat to his life, because Stiles is very much a part of your pack, Scott. Secondly, the easiest way to protect against werewolves is mountain ash touched with a little magic. Anything from the rowan tree can be used, but the ash is the most effective form. Stiles, the first book I got you is bound with moon-soaked rowan, and I think you will find a most useful shield. Also, several of your inks are infused with rowan berries, which should make any charms written with them usable against most werewolves, though less so against the Alpha. And finally... the full moon is on Friday. Scott, as a newly-turned wolf, you are susceptible to being controlled by the Alpha when the moon is waxing to full, especially at night.”

 

They both seem to be processing this, so Deaton gets up and starts to move into his office. He's going to need some time before his next appointment to regain his cool. He's opening the door when Stiles says “What about hunters?”

 

Deaton turns around and looks at them. Stiles is impassive, but Scott just looks confused. Which most likely means it would be best to step lightly. “I know much less about hunters, but I've sworn no oaths to protect them. However, I was not aware that there were any hunters in the area.”

 

“Well, I'm not sure about this one. The only place I've seen it is in _La Bête Du Gévaudan_ , so it might just be an old—“

 

“Argent.” Deaton interrupts. He goes stiff. “You've met an Argent?”

 

“...Yeah. I wasn't sure if they were still a hunting family, but I'm guessing they are, huh.”

 

Scott speaks up now, looking just a little bit angry. “You're talking about Allison? What do you mean, hunting family?”

 

Deaton explains, as calmly as possible, “There are people who hunt supernatural creatures, including werewolves. The Argents are the oldest surviving family of werewolf hunters on the planet, and they have the skills to show for it.” He debates for a second whether or not he can share the most important piece of information, but if they've already met an Argent, then their lives almost certainly depend on it. He continues, “It was an Argent who massacred the last pack that lived in this area. Kate Argent. They're supposed to have a Code that they don't hunt supernatural creatures who aren't a threat. I never knew why she did that, if she had a reason, or if she just went rogue...”

 

He stares off into space for a moment before returning his attention to these two boys who happen to be in his care, and he can't help morbidly wondering if he's going to lose them the same way he lost Talia and the rest of the Hales. “If you must interact with the Argents, be very careful. Please.” With that, he turns and strides into his office.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

It's Scott who speaks first. Stiles would have bet good money that he'd be too much in shock from finding out about Allison to say anything, so he's surprised when Scott says “So... you think Allison is a hunter?”

 

Stiles stares at the ceiling and rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “I really don't know, Scott. I was watching her today to try and figure that out, and I don't have a clue. I mean, she's definitely interested in you. I just can't tell if it's because she wants to date you or kill you.”

 

“Not an encouraging pair of options.”

 

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, not really. I don't know, man. My best guess is that even if she is a hunter, she doesn't know what you are yet. I mean, you only got bit last night.”

 

Scott's face lights up with puppy-like enthusiasm (and oh, Stiles is going to make _all_ the dog jokes). “So you think she might actually like me?”

 

Stiles stares at him, utterly dumbfounded. “Dude, she's still a hunter. Or in a hunter family, at least. What are you going to do when you meet the family and they serve wolfsbane soup?”

 

“Yeah, but Deaton said they've got a Code, right? And I've never really hurt anyone, so I should be fine.”

 

“You must have missed the part right after that where he said that at least one of them doesn't follow the Code. Besides, why would you even want to date someone whose job is to kill you if you become dangerous?”

 

Scott looks down at the ground. “I don't know, I was just thinking... you know, if I don't hurt anyone, I'd want to hang out with people who know what I am.”

 

Stiles sighs, because he absolutely understands that. One of the best parts of hanging out with Scott is being able to talk about his magic. “Okay, but... we don't even know if she's a hunter or not. Why don't you get to know her before you move on to looking at engagement rings? You know, figure out if she'll want to kill you before you kiss her.”

 

Scott nods like he's reluctantly seeing the sense in that, then gets up and starts putting bandages away. Then he stops and turns back to Stiles and says “Oh dude, I just realized that I forgot my asthma charm in the woods last night!”

 

Stiles shakes his head with fond exasperation. “I'll go look for it. I've got a new seeking spell to try anyway.”

 

“Thanks, man!” Scott says with obvious relief. Stiles would be happy to write Scott a new charm any time, and Scott doesn't even need one anymore, but he probably wants his usual one to keep his mom happy—she knows about Stiles's magic, but she has an understandable preference to leave her son's life in the hands of fully-educated healers. Stiles doesn't blame her for that one bit.

 

So he shrugs his satchel on, and heads out to his jeep, calling “Try not to get yourself killed!” to Scott behind him as he heads to the forest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooow my inner Deaton is just super depressing. He's also turning into a much bigger character in this fic than I thought. 
> 
> Also, now is probably a good time to define a couple terms that are too common in the 'verse for me to justify having one of the characters explain them:
> 
> Spells are anything a mage does with their power to directly do something. For example, Deaton will routinely do diagnosis and analysis spells to see what's wrong with an animal.
> 
> Charms, on the other hand, are items in which a mage has placed power in such a way as to have that item duplicate a spell at their command or the command of a non-mage later. A charm can be almost anything, although the materials used greatly affect how difficult it is to create a given charm. Most mages make their money by selling charms, although some spells function less reliably in charm form because they normally require personal attention and minute adjustments from the mage. 
> 
> Healing, truthsaying, and scrying are the typical less-reliable charms. Asthma charms (and other very specific charms like pacemaker-equivalents) do work, because they're designed to do exactly one job and can work almost the same way every time. But there's no such thing as, say, a potion of Cure Light Wounds, because without a mage on hand to direct the regeneration of cells, such a potion would be just as likely to give you a tumor as to heal your injury. 
> 
> Also, charms aren't always called charms. They're equally likely be in some other form that you wouldn't call a charm— potions, for example, are fairly common. (Scrolls usually aren't a thing, but since Stiles works with the written word, you might just see a few here and there.)
> 
> I hope that makes sense!


	4. Forests and Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is almost two weeks late from when I said it would be. My only excuse is that life, work, and writer's block launched a three-pronged simultaneous assault. Sorry! I hope this chapter is a reasonable reward for your patience.

Stiles parks at the same trailhead he parked at the previous night, and looks around. As expected, he can't see any magic out here, even with a sight-enhancing spell. He grins, because he really has wanted to try this spell. He pulls out a blank sheet of square paper, and writes out a full description of Scott's inhaler charm, everything he knows about where Scott had it last, and why he wants to find it. Then he folds up the paper carefully into an origami swan and draws the runes for flight, wind, seeing, and finding, one on the top and bottom of each wing. He settles into the center of his magic, into the notebook he always visualizes containing it, and pulls out a sheet of power to fold into the paper crane. Finally, he lifts the crane in cupped hands and releases it, and it slowly begins flapping its wings until it takes flight. After hovering for a moment, it starts flying forward— towards Scott's lost charm. Stiles's mouth curves into a wide, satisfied smile, and he follows his tracker.

 

 

 

 

Derek is just placing the first soil on top of Laura's body when he hears the sound of someone tripping and cursing. It sounds like a teenage boy, but whoever it is still too far out for his scent to reach Derek. Whoever it is might not be heading here, but it's best to be careful, so Derek throws some extra soil down to be sure Laura's body is covered, and goes to the water pump to wash his hands and face. Once his face is clean and his tear ducts have healed, there's no indication he's been anything but stoic all day.

 

That done, Derek settles on the top floor of the house, in the room with the empty window (it shattered and then melted, the fragments are fused onto the floor as rounded lumps) and focuses on extending his senses as far as possible. By now, the kid is just close enough that Derek can hear his feet as they snap branches and trample leaves. A month ago, or even a week ago, he would have been able to catch the boy's scent by now, but he's not in Laura's pack anymore. He's barely even a Beta now. If he doesn't find whoever it was that got turned last night and establish a pack with them, he'll be Omega by the end of the week. And right now, that starts with talking to the person intruding on his territory, because he can catch their scent now, and it smells of _mage_ and _boy_ and _books_ and _ink_ and _werewolf_ , although the last scent is secondhand and faint. Whoever's coming isn't the new werewolf, but they know who is. 

 

He jumps down from the window onto the lawn (it's harder than when he was a kid, and the landing hurts more) and settles himself imposingly in front of the house, determined not to betray any weakness to whoever this is, whether he knows about werewolves or not. He's more than a little surprised when he sees a flying origami swan come flying out from between the trees right towards him (it reminds him of the little wooden bird Aunt Olivia had enchanted to fly for the kids, but that burned just like they did), and on instinct he reaches up and holds out a finger for the thing to perch on. It settles gracefully onto his outstretched index finger, but it doesn't stop moving— instead of flying, it starts preening nonexistent feathers in its tiny little wings. For a moment, Derek is captured by the elegant little bits of writing that poke around some of the folds in the paper that makes up the bird, and the way it shimmers when it moves around in the sunlight. Almost without permission, his mouth curves a little bit upward.

 

 

 

Stiles is starting to get tired when his tracker darts ahead of him into the clearing ahead. He stumbles over the last few branches, and makes it into the clearing less than a minute after the swan— just in time to see it land on some hot guy's finger. He's about to say something when the guy  _smiles_ in this way that's just like how Stiles's Dad smiles sometimes when Stiles does something that reminds him of Claudia. It's gentle and sad and a little bit happy all at the same time, and it turns this guy's face from brooding and sexy to heart-achingly  _beautiful_ . It's only there for a few seconds before his eyes flick over to Stiles and he starts scowling like he's trying to make up for his slip and says “What are you doing here? This is private property.” 

 

And apparently that's what Stiles needed to get his brain working again, because that's when it suddenly processes that A) the only private property in the preserve belongs to the Hales, which makes this Derek Hale; B) according to his tracker, this guy has Scott's charm; and C) Scott lost his charm right next to where he found the top half of the body, which means the only other person that could have found said charm without the body getting reported would be... 

 

“You're the Alpha.” The words slip out without Stiles's conscious permission, and he cringes at his incredible stupidity. But there's no taking it back now, so he starts edging his his hand toward the self-defense pocket of his pouch, which unfortunately isn't really geared for anything more dangerous than a mugger. His best chance here is still to talk this out. “Why did you bite Scott?”

 

Derek is completely focused on Stiles now, which is more than a little unnerving, but he's not turning into a raging wolf monster and slaughtering Stiles for knowing who/what he is, so Stiles is going to count that as a tentative win. Or he was, until Derek growled out “Who's Scott?”

 

Well, crap. Stiles had just assumed Derek had known who he'd bitten. Alright, time to play his cards close to the chest. “The person you bit. Last night, remember? The one who didn't die, I mean.”

 

Derek's face is frustratingly blank. “I didn't bite anyone.”

 

“Oh, so it was some other Alpha who turned him into a werewolf?”

 

“Well, if it was me, I'd have to be pretty stupid to admit it to a  _hunter,_ ” Derek responds vehemently. 

 

The completely unexpected response has Stiles more than a little confused. “What? I'm not a hunter. What makes you think I'm a hunter?”

 

Stiles is irrationally pleased to see an actual expression on the previously stoic werewolf, even this slightly-more-pronounced frown. Derek pauses before ordering “Say that again.”

 

“Say what? Which part? The 'not a hunter' part or the 'why do you think I'm a hunter' part?”

 

“The first one. And I thought you were a hunter because usually, the only people who know about us are hunters and other werewolves.”

 

“Okay, well, I'm not a hunter. I just do a lot of reading.”

 

Derek is (of course) still frowning when he says “Well, then you need to be careful of hunters. They won't like that you know about them. Now, who's Scott?”

 

“I'm not going to tell you anything you can use to control him or find him, if that's what you're asking. And I already know to be careful of hunters, since there's a Goddam  _Argent_ in my English class as of this morning!”

 

Derek's looking almost... panicked? “Which ones are in town? What do you know about them?”

 

Stiles is calming down some, now that he's got the upper hand in some small way. “I'll tell you everything I know about the Argents if you tell me what you want with Scott.”

 

“I want to form a pack with him—“

 

Stiles interrupts “Well, he's not going to join a  _murderer_ , or with the person who so you might as well give up on that, okay? Scott's a good guy, and, and he's not gonna ' _form a pack'_ with some crazy, murderous Alpha!” He's panting by the end, and it's only after he finishes the rant that he remembers that he was trying  _not_ to anger the enormously dangerous Alpha who—

 

—Is...  _smiling_ ? But no, that's not a smile. There's almost no resemblance to the softly happy look the werewolf was wearing when Stiles entered the clearing. It's too feral for that. “Good. Because I want to form a pack with him so we can kill the Alpha.”

 

Abandoning all attempts at self-preservation (since clearly he's terrible at it anyway) Stiles shuts his eyes, rubs a hand over his face, and sighs. “I'm sorry, what?”

 

“I don't know who the Alpha is, but he killed my sister and stole her power. I'm going to kill him, and I want Scott's help to do it.”

 

“What.” Stiles is feeling more than a little incredulous by now. “So, is this you coming clean, or changing your story? No, you know what? Don't answer that.” He starts looking around in the main pouch on his satchel for one of his notebooks.

 

“This is me deciding that you're not someone who—“ He's cut off by Stiles holding up a hand for silence as he pulls out the notebook he was looking for and tosses it over to Derek.

 

“Anything you have to say to me, you write it in that.”

 

Plainly skeptical, Derek says “I'm not just going to write in something that stinks of your magic unless I know what it does.”

 

Stiles files away the fact that apparently werewolves can smell magic, and responds as evenly as possible. “It has truthsaying qualities. Anything you write in there that's true will glow white. I need you to tell me everything you know about the Alpha, what you want with Scott, and hey, what you know about the Argents, that would be nice.” He tosses over a pen. “And while we're at it, I'm thinking it'd be a good idea if you could give me a few tips for making sure Scott doesn't get controlled by the Alpha.”

 

Derek raises an impressively judgemental eyebrow. “Anything else you want to know? How much I weigh? My family history?”

 

Stiles does his best to return the eyebrow, but he's pretty sure he fails to match up for judginess. “Only if I need to know it to keep Scott safe.”

 

Derek stares silently at Stiles for a moment, then nods and turns his attention to the journal. He narrates as he writes. “All I know about the Alpha is that he was able to kill my sister, and he can conceal his scent so he can't be tracked. He probably wasn't an Alpha before he killed her. I want Scott to create a pack with me so we can both be stronger. I'll help protect and teach him as best I can, and in exchange, I'd like him to help me kill the Alpha so I can have my revenge. You don't need to worry about Scott. If he'll just let me help him, he should be fine.” He finishes writing and tucks the pen and Scott's charm into the notebook before tossing them back to Stiles. “And all I know about the Argents is that it was Kate Argent who burned my family alive.” 

 

Before Stiles can recover from his shocked silence, Derek walks away into the forest. 

 

 

 

 

By the time Stiles finds his way back to the Jeep it was already late (and raining). Scott has probably already left the clinic by now, so Stiles goes straight home. It's not until he parks on the street that he realizes that he hasn't thought about what to tell his dad about the whole werewolf thing. His dad knows about werewolves (Stiles has told him anything and everything he's learned that might keep Dad a little safer), but it's anyone's guess whether or not he actually believed it. Stiles runs a hand through his hair, thinking. There's already been one murder involving a werewolf (two, according to Derek, one murderer and one victim), so the Sherriff is already involved. He could try and hide what's going on, but his dad isn't stupid, and he'll figure it out eventually, because he already has most of the information he needs, but he doesn't have enough, and if he finds the Alpha before Derek and Scott and Stiles do, or before the Argents do, he won't be able to protect himself if Stiles doesn't help him, and the Alpha could kill him, and then—

 

The car door opens. “Stiles! Are you okay?”

 

Some part of him registers that he's having a panic attack, but most of what remains of his conscious thought is completely focused on his dad holding him in his arms. He can barely register his dad telling him to breathe in and out, counting in meditation pattern. It takes a while for him to calm down before his dad can help him inside.

 

Once they're settled down on the couch and Stiles has a warm cup of tea in his hands, his dad asks “Do you want to talk about it?” It's the same question he's asked after every single one of Stiles's panic attacks, even though most of them have been about Claudia. That strength— a strength that makes his father willing to put aside his own trauma to help Stiles deal with his— is what makes up his mind. 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed the little worldbuilding I did at the end of the last chapter so much, I decided to make it a regular thing. Mostly, I'll just be including little bits of information to help expand the setting that I can't really justify having the characters talk about because they're too commonplace— like how we wouldn't normally stop and think about how a lock or a television works.
> 
> So this chapter's tidbit: Technology and science! For the most part, this universe has everything we have and knows everything we know, but through the lens of magic. Basically, a lot of technology replaces electricity with magic, mostly because electricity is considered a kind of magic. So charms replace a lot of common things on a like-for-like basis. Things with computer-like qualities are considered to use the natural magic of the combination of elements that make up those computers (silicone, metal, plastic, etc.) And yes, there is computer magic, though it's mostly a subset of electrical magic. Most people don't really see a difference between putting together a precise design of pieces one way to make a computer or another way to make a charm. Computers are just a more complicated kind of charm that run on electrical magic. 
> 
> Similarly, science is about the same as what we have, but anything that can't be explained gets filed under "natural magic" instead "shit we just don't understand" until proven otherwise. That tends to slow down the progression of science, but magic is a great tool for learning things, so it tends to more or less balance out.

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in a universe which is mostly identical to the Beacon Hills we know and love, except that mages are a common part of everyday life. Magic follows the system presented in Tamora Pierce's Circle of Magic books. You don't need to have read those books to understand what's happening, but it will help when characters are doing magic. 
> 
> This is pretty much the first thing I've ever written other than school essays, so constructive criticism, typo correction, and positive feedback are all welcome. Negativity is not, please.
> 
> Here we go, and I hope you enjoy!


End file.
